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A sudden lack of suspense…

The day started really well. I’d kept back a number of my mother’s clothes – please let it never be said that I’ve a vestige of pride and we always used to swap clothes around – I spent some time this morning trying things on and it’s fair to say that my future winter wardrobe is assured, albeit with rather longer skirts than I might have bought myself. The dresses I kept were few but splendid – from the early 1970s, I should think, one had a Fortnum and Mason label in and the other is Susan Small – I don’t know if I’ll ever wear either but I can’t possibly let them go. There’s another I haven’t tried on yet, marvellously early ’70s with geometric patterns in orange, black and white, and another in red chiffon, simply because I remember she looked lovely in it and I can’t let it go either. Maybe there’s a trace of sentiment in my soul after all.

My friend came for coffee and I was afraid he was going to resign – he didn’t, it’s fine. We had a straightforward discussion, that was fine too. I’m stripping away any edging round a subject – just say it nicely and it cuts out a load of waffle. The Sage popped in at one stage to say he was going out, and politely removed our coffee cups.

Later, I ate some lunch – well, of course … I had a hard-boiled egg, toast and Marmite, a banana, took Ben for a walk, went off for my meeting, which was interesting and may lead to something even more so, then another meeting when I surprised a governor – but possibly more of that considerably later – and then yet another meeting. I apologised and explained why I hadn’t done something – no edging, as I said.

When I got home, the Sage’s car wasn’t here, so I assumed he was out – but the door was unlocked. “Where’s your car?” I asked. Oh darlings, the poor Sage had such an awful time. Driving home from Lowestoft, it suddenly collapsed, the suspension having gone for a burton. He had to get the police as he was blocking the road and they called a breakdown lorry which brought him home and took away the car. It’s a write-off, my lovely old Mercedes – the roads are terrible after the bad winter which has left so many potholes and I know other people have had trouble with suspension in their cars. No harm done physically and the Sage wasn’t too upset. I suggested he have a rest and he didn’t argue however, so he must have felt quite wiped out.

Friend with hedge trimmer came to cut the privet hedge round the tennis court. No problem with nesting birds, it’s almost denuded of leaves though many are in bud. He cut, I cleared up. After a couple of hours, I was knackered, darlings. Still, the long side is done and I can clear up the short side another day. The grass is growing worryingly quickly, and where the chooks have been, the ground is very uneven. I won’t let the Sage do it with a strimmer though. I take care of him, don’t want to take risks with his health. I’d do it myself but a petrol-driven strimmer is so heavy. I don’t know.

Anyway, it’s been gorgeous weather, the warmest day of the year and I’ve really appreciated that. Just lovely to bask in sunshine.

And maybe I’ll manage an early night. I’m reading more at last, some days recently I haven’t picked up a book and I’ve concluded that’s part of my lack of settledness. I need equilibrium, and I’ll get it somehow.

Numbers for Sunday lunch are going up – great! Fourteen so far, two more to hear from. One borrowed table plus our own, that’s fine. I so love to feed lots of people, don’t you? One feels so friendly. It’s not a matter of what one cooks (I have two bringing puddings – I’ve already said I’m not proud) but being hospitable is, to be soppy, how you show love and friendliness.

Ben watched the wildlife programme this evening. When the grizzly bear came up on the screen, he went to get his own teddy bear and show it to the television. He’s such a sweet dog. Albeit quite naughty. But naughty’s not bad, innit?

Oh that is so sweet of Ben to have teddy watch t.v. with him! I used the strimmer the other day, sounds so much better than using the weedeater (u.s. translation). Now must research what “doing a burton” means.

That sounds like a full day. I spent a large part of yesterday fiddling about with a job application. I’m still not happy with it. Trying to disguise the fact that I only meet about half of the ‘essential criteria’ is proving challenging.

I’ve never worn my mother’s clothes. When I lived at home I was at least two clothes sizes smaller than her. Also, she is even shorter than I am so skirts and trousers would be too short on me. This is quite apart from the fact that we have completely different taste in clothes anyway!

Poor old Sage; the last time I had a car fail on me while driving was probably 20 years ago, but I still remember how stressful it was.

I hadn’t expected such gorgeous weather yesterday. At about 3pm I abandoned my job application and took my kindle out into the garden and spent an hour reading in the sunshine. It was lovely.

People who know me trust me to mean what I say, I hope, and that they can speak straightforwardly back.

I took a photo, Martina, I’ll put it up later. It’s ‘gone for a burton’, not doing one. No idea where it came from though.

Dave, I quote the Sage when I told him – “No! Go on! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.” I hope you weren’t hurt and that you’ve been able to take it easy – no one bounces back from that.

Well, a lot of skills are transferable, hope you get to wow them at interview.

I woke up early and read to the sound of the rain falling. I’ll be the Sage’s chauffeuse later, so may have a chance to read in the car when he’s at his appointment.

Back in the day, my mother, sister and I were all the same size, though I was slightly the shortest, so we could swap around a bit. Mother usually passed on clothes she decided were a bit young for her.

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The Unobservant Eye of Z

Dramatis personae:
My husband, Lovely Tim or LT for short (though he is actually tall).
My late husband, the Sage, aka Russell.
My children: Dearest daughter Weeza, who has London Ways, is married to Phil. Their daughter is Zerlina Buttercup and their son is Augustus Bufo. Elder son - Al X, is married to Dilly. Their children are Squiffany Virgilia, Maximus Pugsley and Hadrian Swallow. Younger son - Ro married Dora in September 2014 and their first baby, Rufus Russell, was born on 9th June last year.
Big Sister: Wink. She lives in Wiltshire, 230 miles away, but we're much closer than that.
We live with our cat Eloise, a black tortoiseshell half-Ragdoll.
Bantams live in the garden, recent additions being tiny Seramas called Crow, Jet and Yvette, along with three chicks, and cats live in the barns but we feed them and they have ambitions to be pets too. In addition, cows come to visit in the summer. Mostly, they stay in the fields. None of them has got a hoof in the door yet.
There is an annexe to the house, where Roses lives and her beloved, Lawrence, spends a lot of time there. Her son, Boy, lives there too.

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Updating takes too much memory, sorry - but then I'm not very young any more, so am hanging on to the memory I've got. Please don't look for any significance in the order - I'm not drunk but I am disorderly.

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Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.

Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?